


Glitter & Gold

by Salimah



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Mythology, F/M, God!Bucky, God!Steve, Salimah's mythology, You will understand later, a peasant, also, and then there is the reader, carrots!!!, god!sam, i know is not real mythology, so don't come at me and go 'but this isn't real mythology, that's why is mine, this is my own mythology
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-01-18 22:16:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12397341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salimah/pseuds/Salimah
Summary: There is a limited number of encounters between gods and mortals.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brightlycoloredteacups](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightlycoloredteacups/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my contribution to @whotheeffisbucky‘s challenge, because apparently I only write for writing challenges. And yeah, I created my own mythology, sue me. 
> 
> I give my eternal thanks to @brightlycoloredteacups who was my beta with this one, and who also is a sweetness and an actual angel.
> 
> I think is painfully obvious that english isn’t my first language, so if you see any mistakes in the narration is because of that. Please let me know what do you think!

The days like these were the longest, when the sun shone high in the sky of Ballynoe and the breeze had gone far to relieve the suffering of someone else. Those who could stay at home on a day like this were lucky, protected from the heat and the hard work. But you weren’t one of those people, so you sighed, rolled up the sleeves of your dirty dress, and got to work.  
  
Your knees sank into the ground as your hands did the same among the green leaves of the lush bush, ripping the weeds and putting them to the side. The task of collecting food in the field was not exactly the most desired job among the young people in your village, but it provides you with enough money to support you and live comfortably with your brother in the small cottage just outside the village, in the edge of the forest and near the river.  
  
Even so, spending days in the hot sun of summer, getting dirty, was not exactly your idea of pleasure. It was dirty, messy and on more occasions than you would like, wet. Your favorite days were Thursdays, when you went to the orchard to take care of the orange trees, peaches and apples, looking for signs of a plague and counting the days until the fruits were ready to be harvested. Your least favorite days, however, were the mornings after rain, when every step felt like quicksand, and you tried to keep your beloved plants from drowning.  
  
However, you didn’t complain. Your work could be a little messy at times, but it paid for your food and kept a roof over your head. Your brother came out every day from your home with his bow and arrows, ready to hide among the forest plants to wait for your dinner, or that of some villager with enough silver coins.  
  
Even so, not even the profits from both jobs together was enough to cover a whole month of food. You weren’t in crisis, but you couldn’t relax and afford a luxury either. Once or twice, perhaps in the hunting season or when the fresh grapes were swollen and juicy, you would bring home a new dress that wasn’t discolored and torn, or your brother would buy new arrowheads and shiny leather boots that didn’t have the cords hardened by mud.  
  
Sighing in defeat, you removed a lock of hair from your face and left a stain of dirt behind, but you didn’t move to clean it. You took another carrot from the ground and threw it carelessly in the basket next to the other ones that you had already taken before; you'll clean them later. For now, you just wanted to finish the carrots and move to the potatoes.  
  
You took vegetable after vegetable from the earth for another hour, stopping every now and then to dry the sweat of your forehead or to sit on your heels and look around. A couple of people were with you in the orchard, cultivating, watering or harvesting, but all are a good distance from you. That way you could cover more ground, although the task of taking care of the food made you want to bury yourself in the maize plants.  
  
You stood up and walked slowly all the way to the stream not far from your work zone. You dragged your feet wearily on the dirt ground and lazily held the basket full of vegetables against you. Today had not been a particularly productive day; There have been times when you have harvested up to four entire baskets. Today, however, you had hardly filled more than half of one. Old Coulson was not going to be very happy about it, but what could you have done? Not all the plants had finished growing, and you couldn’t do anything to speed up the process.  
  
After what seemed hours in the sun, you finally reached the edge of the stream. The sound of the water running down the rocks helped to soothe your grumpy mood a little. The stream was one of your favorite places in Ballynoe, and you are grateful to have it so close to your home and your work.  
  
Putting the basket at your feet and sitting on your heels, you began to wash vegetable behind vegetable and when they were all clean and kept in the basket again, you allowed yourself to lie back for a moment and rest. In this part of the stream the trees were tall and their leaves were thick, leaving you in the shadows of the hot day, lying on the fresh grass. You let out a sigh of relief and let a small smile curl your lips. Gods, you were tired.  
  
You could feel the intensity of the sun diminish, and you frowned slightly. Of course It wouldn't be so hot just when it didn't bother you anymore. The gods were conspiring against you today, surely. Twisting in a more comfortable position, you let your eyes close. You were going to take advantage of this rest as much as you could. Nobody would look for you for a while.  
  
The sound of the birds singing and the wind stirring the leaves of the trees soon made your will to rise disappear more and more. You had always been a heavy dreamer, and with how tired you were, you knew it was only a matter of time before you fell asleep right there, your feet buried in the water and your hair tangled in the grass.

Just as you were on the verge of falling into the land of dreams, a loud crunch disturbed the tranquility of the stream. You jumped at the sound and your eyes flew open. The sun had diminished to a bluish glow. How long had you been asleep? It must be past four o'clock. Oh, Amer, you were in trouble. Your brother must be furious.  
  
A second creak made you sit up and slap your gaze at the source of the noise. A man was sitting on the ground a few feet away from you, leaning against the tree that had given you your long-awaited shadow just a couple of hours ago. A black horse was drinking from the stream behind him, his dark fur gleaming with the last rays of the sun.  
  
You backed away from the stranger. The man looked like no one you had ever seen before. He was tall, you could tell by the length of his legs and arms. Extremities that looked so muscular under the clothes and skins that covered them, shoulders as wide and firm as the tree on which he was leaning.  
  
His blue eyes watched you analyze him slowly. He didn’t seem to have a problem with you looking at him so closely, there was even a slight flash of amusement hiding behind the piercing blue of his eyes, as if he didn’t wanted anyone to know what he feels or thinks. You felt like seeing that little emotion dancing in his expression was an honor for you, something that with another person or in another situation would not have been allowed.  
  
Your head felt blurry and your train of thought was drifting away, and you could no longer hear the birds sing or the river run, although you were still very aware of the cold water on your feet dipped in the edge and the fresh grass against your hands, moistening your palms.  
  
His appearance wouldn’t have jolted you so much if it had not been for the aura emanating from him. Never in your life you had been around anyone who made you feel this way. Your head was spinning and you felt like your mind was moving further away from you, like in those dreams that you only have when you fall asleep feeling safe and sound. The man's eyes stared at you without embarrassment, following every movement you made meticulously.  
  
The black horse behind him had stopped drinking and had moved until he was a few feet away, his nose buried in the grass and eating without paying attention to the exchange his master was having with a confused peasant.  
  
The man followed your gaze and looked behind him at his horse, letting the corner of his lips rise in the slightest of smiles as he looked with unmistakable fondness to the animal. You felt like an intruder watching this stranger undress his emotions so naturally before you. He was undoubtedly the most handsome man you'd ever seen, with those sky-blue eyes and dark hair framing his face like a portrait, tucked into the back of his head with a strip of leather. You couldn’t help feeling like you didn’t belong there, a mortal among the most divine beings you can imagine.  
  
_That had to be_ , you thought. There is no person on earth with an appearance like that, there are no mortals with such divine essences that make your knees feel weak and make you forget everything else. Like he was inside your mind, the man turned his head in your direction again and looked straight into your eyes, and smirked.  
  
It has to be, you can not be wrong. No mortal could look into your eyes like that and make your stomach jump back. You resisted the urgency of run away and squeezed your hands in your lap, dragging a little further away from the man.

Encounters between mortals and gods didn’t end well in most cases. The most divine beings that exist wouldn’t descend to the world of evil for anything. There is only a limited number of reasons for a deity to appear before a mortal, and almost all were a bad omen.  
  
An avalanche of memories hit you from nowhere. You remembered the stories that your mother had told you about the gods when she was still alive, those days at the entrance of your home on the grass, when she stroked your hair and told you legends of the most powerful beings in this land and another far away.  
  
She told you about Amer, the great god of justice and truth, king of heaven and of the honests. He was a good deity, the god that true believers deserve and worship.  
  
Amer was the one you prayed to when you were desperate, when you could not bear the thought of continuing to live one more day in misery, that time your mother finally let out her last breath, and for the first time your brother and you faced the world alone, without money and without jobs. Amer had answered you.  
  
You let out a gasp when your sight cleared. For a second, you had been there again, lying on the grass with your head in your mother's lap, listening to her tell you about the power and generosity of the gods, hearing as your brother threw wooden arrows at the targets carefully scattered by the trees that surrounded your house and laughing when he cried out with pure joy whenever he hit one.  
  
You took a deep breath and threw yourself back, watching as the man dropped his head to the side, looking at you with a small smile on the curve of his lips. He had done it, he had submerged you in a trance, in a spell, in a _memory_ . You stared at him with your mouth hanging open, trying to catch your breath even though you had not moved since you woke up.  
  
You were trying to find the strength to talk, to move, to _scream_ , but you couldn’t. You are petrified by the presence of this deity, by the evident power he has over you.  
  
It was then that you heard the creak that awoke you again.  
  
The man–no, _god_ , had one of your carrots in his fingers, playing with it while chewing on the bite he had taken. He smiled with obvious mischief when he realized that your gaze was leaping between his mouth, the carrot in his hand and the basket that still was at your feet.  
  
Your voice was hoarse when you spoke for the first time in hours, "That's not yours."

The man stopped chewing and looked at you, raising an eyebrow with curiosity, and you couldn’t help the mortification that you felt. His hand slowly lowered to rest in his lap, the half-eaten carrot still tangled between his fingers. The deity leaned back, leaning against the trunk of the thick tree and allowing himself to relax. There was no way in this world that you were a threat to him. The only weapon you had was your tongue and your recklessness.  
  
"You cannot blame me," he said, his deep voice sending shivers down your entire body. The way he spoke, as the words slipped from his tongue into the void of air, made your head feel blurry. He was smirking again, that little curve of his lips that made you feel like he was making fun of you. "You left them there like nothing. They looked so tempting "  
  
You opened and closed your mouth like a fish out of the water. What were you supposed to answer to that? You couldn’t find anything to say or do. This man, this god, was talking to you for no apparent reason, _making fun of you_. This is not how you imagined yourself spending your afternoon when you woke up that morning.  
  
You didn’t know which answer was correct, so you went with what you tell your brother every time you find him stealing something from the collected.  
  
"My employer does not like it when the rations are incomplete," you murmured, refusing to take your eyes away from his, even though his eyes on you made you tremble. The stranger chuckled, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe what you were saying.  
  
You forced yourself not to look away when he stopped laughing, attaching his incredible eyes to yours, the same glow of pleasure that you had seen before was still there. Then, without taking his eyes from you, he took another bite of the carrot in his hand.  
  
You didn’t know what possessed you to act like that, but you couldn’t help but speak the way you did, "I'm serious!" You raised your voice. The man just laughed at you and crossed his arms over his chest, giving you a clear expression of 'And what will you do about it?' "Old Coulson has an inventory meticulously–"  
  
"Old Coulson will forgive you for this time," said the god, swallowing the piece of carrot before throwing it aside. Both watched as the vegetable fell in the water with a wet noise, quickly disappearing with the flow of the river. The man returned his gaze to you when he could no longer see the vegetable again. "I'll make sure of it"  
  
You were sure he would, there was no doubt about it. But that didn’t make your mistrust fade. He was playing with you, mocking you like a hungry beast hunting his prey. With each passing second you felt more and more suspicious. You could no longer hear the birds sing, or the leaves fly in the wind. Only the slightest whisper of the wind in your ears and the water of the river becoming colder and colder.

The god could sense your suspicion, you could tell. The gleam of mockery in his eyes was still there, but now it was mixed with something else, something you couldn’t decipher, not being so submerged in the divine influence of this deity. His smile wavered, but he held it as he stretched out towards you. You stepped away from him instinctively, away from the water and into the bushes that surrounded the stream.  
  
You seemed to see a flash of pain in his eyes, but it disappeared as fast as it came. Who was this deity? At times he undressed his feelings before you and then closed them abruptly. The gods were usually jealous and arrogant beings, most wouldn’t let a mortal like you see their souls exposed.  
  
But then most gods wouldn’t even be here with you, playing like their new toy.  
  
The god didn’t let your mistrust discourage him and he advanced towards you again, stopping so close that you could feel his breath. The nearness sent shivers down your spine, but you refused to keep moving away.

  
The man felt your submission, and with a soft smile he bent over you. "I've been watching you."  
  
Your heart skipped a beat at the confession. Your breath caught in your throat at the thought that came into your head. Memories of the stories of gods captivated by mortals, too submerged in the spell of lust to think of the consequences of their actions.  
  
Was that what this deity was here for? You didn’t know what to feel at such idea. Not in all these stories the mortal was willing to fulfill the whim that had so consumed the god, but that never stopped them. The bitter feeling of fear was slowly taking hold of you, flooding your stomach and climbing up your back.  
  
The god felt your change of emotion and frowned, all trace of fun fading. He raised a hand and cupped your cheek, and he didn’t move it away when you trembled and closed your eyes.  
  
"I'm not going to hurt you, Y/N," he whispered, so close to your face that you could feel his breath against your nose. You opened your eyes to see him in front of you, his face still wrinkled in a grimace of concern, but his eyes send you security. He knows your name.  
  
You don’t even know what to think; there are so many gods, so many myths. Some are good, benevolent, generous, the gods whom you pray in times of weakness and suffering.  
  
Others, however, are cruel to mortals. They cheat to gain their trust and take what they want afterwards, usually taking lives with it. Only people with dark souls worshiped these gods, and you were scared of the amount of power that a few followers could give to a deity that had no interest in the good.  
  
You still weren’t sure which one was the god in front of you.  
  
The man called your name, moving his thumb gently on your cheek, the movement sending a wave of tranquility through you. It was a light, friendly touch. It couldn’t be someone who wanted to hurt you.  
  
It felt like your mother's caresses, like when she taught you to plant flowers and shrubs in the yard of your house and wiped a spot of dirt from your cheek, the same soft, loving touch that you were feeling right now.  
  
Your mind is swimming in a sea of darkness and you cannot see anything but the smile of your mother. He is doing it again, immersing you in a memory of the past where you were happy, where you felt calm. He's trying to make you feel safe, you thought. Using your own memories to his benefit. You were confused and disoriented. One thing is clear: he doesn’t want you to be afraid.  
  
"Look at me," you hear the soft voice of the stranger, just a word carefully whispered against your face, and suddenly you can see and hear everything again. The sky has darkened to a shade of pink and red, the last rays of sunset illuminating the river that is now freezing the tips of your toes. With a small jump you remove them from the water and bend your legs under you. Some birds sing in the distance, but it's just a whisper of farewells. The black horse of before still is eating grass, but now lazily, like waiting for the moment when he can leave.

Even the wind moving the branches of the trees and the air you breathe makes you feel so aware again, back in your senses.  
  
The god had laid you on your back, the wetness of the lawn wetting the back of your dress. He had laid down on his side, leaning his face over yours and holding his weight with one hand, while the other removed the hair of your face.

His blue eyes drank every detail of your face and body, and the look of concern of before was now replaced by one of fascination and curiosity.

"You are Winter." you let out with a sigh, so low that he would not have heard it if he weren’t so close to you. "Master of memories and will." His eyes went up at yours, and a small smile curved his perfect lips again.  
  
"You're such an interesting creature," he said in the middle of a laugh, caressing the side of his face with tenderness. "I knew you would find it out for yourself, but it took longer than I thought."

"What are you doing here?" You asked him, and you allowed yourself to feel proud that your voice didn’t shaked as doing so. "What are you doing with me?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Gods and mortals don’t cross paths often. And when they do, usually it doesn’t end well."  
  
The corner of Winter's mouth curled in a gesture of bitterness, and for a moment you wondered if you'd said something wrong.  
  
"My people are not always the most pleasant, you're right," he said after a few seconds with something that sounded like annoyance while playing with the collar of your dress. "But I'm not here to hurt you or anyone else," he said, returning his eyes to yours. His gaze on you still made you shiver, but now in a different way. Winter's smile tinged with sadness as he whispered his next phrase, "Maybe just myself."  
  
Winter's story was heartbreaking, to say the least. When he and Amer were still mere mortals they participated in a war older than your people. Winter and Amer were heroes in their day, defeating army after army of their enemies, but were unexpectedly betrayed by an alleged ally, and it was Winter who suffered the consequences.  
  
It is said that he was tortured by the souls in pain of the soldiers who had chosen the path of evil and had joined the troops of Hydra, an evil deity that fed on power and fear. Winter was brave all those years; where an ordinary mortal would have surrendered after a short time, Winter persisted and endured all the punishments that his captors gave him. But someone can only endure a certain amount of suffering.  
  
Over time, Winter lost his soul to the pain and torture, and memories of her mortal life with Amer and his loved ones disappeared. Hydra used him for centuries to torment those who opposed him, stealing the power of his choices and forcing him to harm innocent people. But it was not until Amer learned the truth that Winter was finally able to return to his side as his right hand and rest in peace.  
  
When he became a god, his memories returned and his ability to choose his destiny forged his divinity. No one with the blessing of Winter would be manipulated to do anything against their will. In times when believers felt lost, Winter would return their most precious memories to keep going and not give up. Winter was the god of those who died a little inside and were born again, like the first ray of sun after a storm.  
  
Winter was a good deity, one that would not harm an innocent in the way he was harmed. He wasn’t here to hurt you.

"If you're not here to hurt me, then, for what?" Any trace of fear had faded from your voice, now that you knew who your companion was. The small smile that adorned his lips was bright, affectionate. Like he has known you all your life. But then it became that mocking smile you'd seen before, a almost flirtatious flash appearing in his eyes.  
  
"I've wanted to talk to you for a while" he pulled away from you a little, giving you back your personal space. You were grateful for that; his presence in itself was overwhelming without having him so close to you. His hand stayed in your stomach, however, a slight weight on the base of your belly. "I couldn’t find the right moment, until my friend over there forced me to come and greet you." He gestured at the black horse behind him, which had stopped chewing and is looking at you two disapprovingly.  
  
"Who is it?" The question came out of your mouth before you could stop it. You didn’t want to push the limits with personal questions.  
  
But Winter just laughed, shaking his head and giving the horse a look of amusement, "That's Sam, doll. He is getting bored and wants to go home. But I still have something to finish here." Winter felt your confused look and caressed his hand up and down your belly. "I think you know him as Falcon, if I'm not mistaken"  
  
Your breath caught in your throat. You met two gods in one day, two gods who have apparently been watching you for a while.  
  
Winter gave you a few minutes to recover before talking again. He was no longer smiling with that gleam of mischief and mockery, and instead his eyes returned to that look of curiosity and admiration. His hand continued to run up and down your stomach, the heat of his palm penetrating the fabric of the dress and leaving a pool of fire in your belly. "Your eyes are bright with this light," he whispered a few inches from you, his face so close to you that you could see his eyelashes and the shade of gray in his eyes. He had a slight stubble of beard, like the one that your brother grows when he spends several days without shaving.

You vaguely registered the sound of wings fluttering in the wind, and the back of your mind told you that Falcon – _Sam_ – finally was gone. But your head was elsewhere, concentrating on keeping your pulse from sounding so loud that Winter could hear it over your breath.  
  
He leaned over you, his nose brushing your own in a soft touch, light as a feather. The hand in your stomach moved to rest in the curve of your neck, his callous fingers caressing the sensitive skin within reach. With each passing moment your eyes felt heavier and heavier, and you couldn’t think of anything other than his lips so close to your own.  
  
The hand on your collarbone moved to rest on the nape of your neck, cradling the back of your head as like holding you up. Winter's expression was difficult to read and at the same time so open, so _clear_. No one had ever looked at you the way he was doing it, as if you were a divine creature, something too fragile and gentle to be mistreated. You had never felt like someone undressed their soul before you, with all his desires and intentions.

And the intentions this god has with you made your legs tremble in anticipation.  
  
Winter leaned closer still, as if that were possible. His beard tickled your cheeks, his breath mixing with yours. Your heart was beating so hard in your chest that you were afraid it would run out of it. Winter stroked your scalp gently, like he felt your nerves. "I want to remember you until our next time."  
  
He didn’t give you time to think about what he told you. His lips brushed yours in a soft touch, doubtful, like he was asking for your permission. It took a few seconds to react, but then you moved your lips against his.  
  
Kissing a god was definitely an experience to remember. Her lips felt soft against yours, his kiss chaste, almost timid. You haven’t kissed many people in your life, but you knew this kiss was different. His mouth moved in sync with yours, like he knew exactly what you were going to do next. The hand on the back of his neck had moved higher up, sinking into your hair and clenching his fist with softness in your hair.  
  
You savored the kiss as much as you could, taking your hands to the furs that covered Winter's chest, holding him like an anchor that kept you on the ground. Your lungs screamed for air, but you couldn’t heed them. It was too good, too pleasant. The power of this man over you, the strength of his hands in your body, all over him consumed you like burning fire.  
  
Winter pulled away from you with one last movement against your lips, leaning his forehead against yours and taking deep breaths. You didn’t know gods needed to catch their breath, but damn if you did. "Winter..." you whispered breathlessly.  
  
You heard his laugh and you felt his happy mood without having to open your eyes. "Call me Bucky," he whispered against your lips, his name sliding into the air with a trust worthy of his person.  
  
You smiled for the first time in what felt like years, "Bucky."  
  
Your heart pumped blood furiously into your ears and your chest rose up and down sharply. The soft brush of a hand against your swollen lips made you open your eyes slowly.  
  
"Keep this memory until our next time." he whispered, running his thumb over your lower lip, a smile of happiness decorating his. You closed your eyes when his hand moved to your hair, caressing it away from your face and behind your ears. You hadn’t felt so calm and safe in years, since your mother died.  
  
The hand in your hair slowly backed away, and when you opened your eyes to see his, Bucky was gone.

* * *

"Y/N!" Your brother shouted when he saw you approach the entrance of your house. The knot of nerves in your stomach loosened when you saw that your brother's expression was more relieved than furious. In a few seconds he was in front of you, the dust of the ground flying behind him, squeezing your face between his gigantic hands. "By all the gods, where have you been? I look everywhere for you, I thought a bandit-"

"Clint." You called his name, squeezing your hands in his and pulling them away from your face. It was past five already, and the sky had darkened; the stars and the moon had led you safely home. "Forgive me, brother. I fell asleep in the stream, and when I woke up it was late," you said with your best puppy eyes, begging him not to ask you any more questions. You didn’t want to lie to him, but you didn’t know whether it would be wise to tell him about your encounter with Bucky.  
  
Clint frowned and gave you his 'You're in trouble, young lady' look. You knew you were, but you could not help but feel happy that you were. You still could not believe what had happened, what you had _felt_. And you would never have done it if you had not fallen asleep several hours ago.  
  
"I brought you carrots!" You hurried to add when Clint opened his mouth to continue to berate you, surely. You raised the small basket where you had hidden a few vegetables as a consolation prize, now that you knew Old Coulson didn’t know how many you harvested.  
  
Clint opened his mouth to protest but closed it when you discovered the carrots, washed and clean. "I ..." he stammered, looking at the vegetables with longing. He took one of the basket and you smiled at your victory, knowing that you had tamed it. Clint noticed your satisfying smile, and as he took a big bite of the carrot in his hand, he tried to put the most serious and intimidating expression he could with his mouth full of food, "We haven’t finished this discussion! You are in serious trouble, Y/N."  
  
"Yes, of course I am," you said mockingly, passing one side of him and walking towards the entrance of your cabin. "Hurry or I'll eat them all by myself!" you called for your brother behind your shoulder.  
  
Clint ran after you towards the house, and before you could react he took the basket from your hands and fled to the safety of your home. "Clint!" You shouted, rushing behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ballynoe is the name of the village the reader lives in, and, in case you didn’t figured it out by yourself, Amer is a diminutive of ‘America’ which makes it obvious that yes, Amer is Steve. Sam is the god of the sky and the loyalty, and also is a shapeshifter, because that’s cool.
> 
> Also, the agriculture in this isn’t exactly accurate, but then I thoungt to myself ‘Fuck it is my own universe and I can plant whatever I please’ so yeah, ignore the potatoes.
> 
> I wanted to introduce waaay more god characters, but it was getting too long, so it didn’t happened. But I could always make a second part (oh god Salimah no you already have too many series ideas) if you guys wanted me to. As always, leave a comment of what you think and let me know if you see any mistake.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There has to be something special about you. It doesn't matter what you are doing or where you are; the gods don't leave you alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! Part two! I’m excited, aren’t you excited? ‘Cause I am.
> 
> As always, my eternal thanks to @brightlycoloredteacups who was my beta with this fic. I love her and she deserves all the happiness in the world, so if you can go and leave a nice menssage in her ask box because she deserves it, okay?
> 
> I think is painfully obvious that english isn’t my first language, so if you see any mistakes in the narration is because of that. Please let me know what do you think!

The market was crowded today; every corner and every food stall covered by the bodies of the hurried people of the village, running from one side to another with their hands full of groceries. The dust of the ground rose with each step they took and the air smelled like a combination of scents; not completely disgusting, but not pleasant either.

You sighed with annoyance when another person hit your shoulder as they passed, almost causing you to drop your own basket of groceries. The idea of filling your home with food for weeks excited you, the small personal victory of having so many silver coins to buy a little more than usual settling with force in your chest. The emotion had made you forget how much you hate going to the market.

You had considered sending Clint, but he had an accident in the woods the night before, and now he is using the small bruise on his knee as an excuse to avoid any possible physical activity. You knew that the wound was not even close to being as serious as he made it look, but the look that he gave you from his bed, surrounded by blankets and pillows, always has been your weak point.

You did your best not to trip over anything –or anyone– on your way to the spice stall. The people of the town have always been scandalous, a little fussy and a bit gossipy as well. Your mother had some altercations with several of Ballynoe's inhabitants, almost always involving your father. Maybe it was those meetings that influenced her moving to the outskirts of town.

The old man behind the table that exhibited the spices sent you a bored look when you were in front of him, chewing a piece of old bread with his mouth open. You ignored the sound and gave him your order, fiddling with the small leather bag on the top of your basket full of groceries. The old man looked at you for a few more seconds before moving slowly to look for your order. You stood there, waiting for the man to find the rosemary you wanted. You had already seen it on the table, but it would be discourteous to grab it by yourself.

You looked around to entertain yourself, holding more strongly your basket and the bag of coins. Maybe the market was not one of your favorite places in Ballynoe, but sometimes interesting things happened in it. With so many people running around, busy with their own affairs, accidents tend to happen. And on occasions like this, when you have nothing else to do besides wait, you take advantage of those little misfortunes to entertain you. Clint loves to do this with you; too bad that he likes more to stay at home and do nothing.

Unfortunately, people seemed a little more cautious today. There was nothing that seemed about to collapse or fall. Everything is in perfect order. Noisy and annoying, yes, but there was no risk in sight. Part of you was glad that nothing happened; less fuss from which to escape. But the part of you who was bored was pouting with annoyance.

You sighed deeply and returned your gaze to the spice stall. All things were still in place: each bag of powder, branches tied together and vases filled with liquids were still perfectly organized in front of you. Everything was where it should be. Everything except the carrot that rested on the edge of the wooden table.

You tried to hide your smile while you stretched to take the carrot in your hands. It was a bright orange, almost sickly, but you knew that it’s taste didn’t compare to any other. Carrots were not something you ate very often just for the pleasure of it, but you had been eating a lot more the past few weeks. You could not help it; What else were you going to do with all these carrots suddenly appearing in unexpected places?

The old man in front of you cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him. He was holding the rosemary you had asked for, "Two silver coins." The man took a bite of his piece of old bread. You paid for it and you wrapped the rosemary to keep it together with the other provisions, and keeping the carrot with everything else.

You almost had everything you had come for, and there were still plenty of silver coins. Not many to afford something very expensive, but enough to buy something at the bakery. The smell of freshly baked bread has been calling you since you set foot in the market, tempting you like nothing else could.

Just as you took a step in the direction of the bakery, a shiver went up your spine and ruffled the hairs on your neck. You stopped on your steps, looking around with curiosity. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Children running from their mothers, women filling their baskets with as much food as they could and men betting the only silver coins they had left for a sip of mead.

Nobody was watching you or paying attention to you, but the sensation of a gaze persisted in the back of your neck, an insistent heat that spread slowly throughout your body, making you feel more and more nervous.

You tried to ignore the feeling and went your way. You still had to buy some fruits before returning home, and hopefully you would take a piece of freshly baked bread as well. But the feeling of being observed didn’t fade. With each step you took, the feeling became stronger, as if whoever was watching you was coming closer and closer to you.

You looked around, looking once more to whoever that look belonged, but again you didn’t see anyone standing out. You tried to calm yourself, saying that there was nothing to fear. There were dozens of people in the market with you, and you didn’t have so many silver coins for a bandit to set his eyes on you. Maybe it was just your imagination playing with your mind. Clint constantly says how paranoid you can be, but you know he just exaggerates.

You moved among the sea of people for a few more minutes, pressing the basket hard against your chest. You wanted to finish your purchases as quickly as possible and return home to Clint. Surely there you would feel silly of this moment, frightened by a simple sensation of being observed that was very likely imaginary.

You bought the fruits and paid as quickly as possible to the young woman who sold them, barely stopping to give her a grateful smile before continuing walking. A knot had tightened in your stomach, the beating of your heart accelerating. It was silly, but that feeling of being watched really was getting on your nerves, and now was the only thing you could think of.

You rushed to the market, taking care to drop nothing from your basket of food or trip over anyone. It was strange; Now it was you who was about to make a fuss if you kept moving so fast in such a vast sea of people. People gathered around you, dealing with their own affairs and conveniently ignoring you. You hoped that so many people keeping you company would dissipate the feeling of insecurity in your chest, that perhaps with so many people mixing in the crowd your observer would lose sight of you and become bored.

A chill went up your back and the air around you became cold. You almost stopped but the fear made you keep walking. You didn’t get very far. Someone put their hand on your shoulder, a soft but firm touch, the grip of someone who didn’t want to hurt you but who could certainly do it easily if they wanted to. Your breath got stuck in your throat and you almost dropped your basket of groceries.

You looked over your shoulder just as another villager crossed your path. You saw a flash of pale skin and green eyes like emeralds before the man in front of you began to roar in your ear.

You accidentally collided with him and caused him to take a few steps back. Like that was the worst offense you could have committed. You started to apologize, but the man would not let you talk, too submerged in his anger. You didn‘t have time for this. Someone had been about to touch you, someone you could still feel with you, behind you. But when you looked over your shoulder there was no trace of the person you saw.

The man in front of you is screaming in your face. His stinking breath made you want to puke, but every time you tried to pass him he got in your way. You were starting to get impatient too, but the man didn't seem to show any sign that he would calm down soon. You just want to get home and pretend that none of this had happened.

"I have to go..." You tried to pass him again, but the man grabbed your arm and pushed you back in your place. The force of the push send you back, your feet stumbling over themselves. The man is raising a hand in your direction furiously, and you put yourself on guard, ready to defend yourself at any moment.

"I still have not finished with you, little girl-"

"Yes, you did."

A female voice interrupted the man, saving you from a hit. You took advantage of the distraction and walked away from the man as fast as you could, walking backwards and pressing your basket against your chest as a defense. You hit a person for the second time that day, but this time that someone didn’t get mad at you. Soft, pale hands rested on your shoulders, stabilizing you and keeping you on your feet. They were the same hands that had touched you a few minutes ago.

The grip on your shoulders wasn’t strong, but it was firm, as a gesture to support you and at the same time to hold you back. You had the feeling that this woman had a bone to pick with you.

The big man in front of you leaned back, clearly intimidated by this woman's presence, though you did not understand how. "It was not my intention–"

"I know it wasn’t," the woman interrupted him. Her voice was as imposing as that of a powerful person; the confident, casual manner in which she spoke showed how comfortable she felt in her own skin. You don’t know anyone who speaks that way. Nobody except one person, "but I suggest you forget what happened and continue your purchases. There is nothing to worry about now."

The woman spoke so convincingly that even you wanted to just shrug and go your way home, but you knew that wasn’t possible right now. The man, however, had nothing to stop him, so he just nodded frantically and walked away at a brisk pace. You watched as his broad shoulders and bald head disappeared into the crowd, feeling the woman's hands slide delicately from your shoulders. You were afraid to turn around and look at her, a feeling you had experienced before.

You turned around doubtfully, assessing your surroundings carefully; no one paid attention to your altercation with the man, everyone indifferent to the dispute between two people who collided in the market.

The woman in front of you wasn’t a simple woman, you noticed almost immediately. Maybe it was because you already had encounters with something out of the ordinary before, but you could recognize it faster than the last time. She wasn’t exactly tall, but her figure intimidated you as if she was, making you feel like you were smaller than you actually are. You hadn’t been wrong when you saw her before; she had red hair like burning flames that hung to her shoulders, framing her face perfectly.

Her green eyes examined you carefully in the same way you did with her. She was dressed in a simple white dress secured to her waist with a golden cloth ribbon. Her bare arms showed old scars, all the wounds healed. Her eyes were marked with a radiance that you had not seen in anyone in your life; they shone like precious gems in the sun. At first glance, there was nothing extraordinary about her, but you know that is not true. You have met eyes like that before, and that look is not of a mortal.

The woman fixed her gaze on yours and her apple-red lips curled into a smile, "You are more stunning to what they told me."

You frowned and looked at her strangely. You forced your mouth to move and talk to her, no matter how much your voice trembles when doing it, "What 'they'?"

The woman smiled more broadly and bit her lip with amusement, but didn’t answer your question. Instead, she turned around and started walking, gesturing for you to follow her. You looked around for a few seconds before running after her. You weren’t sure if it was the wisest decision, but the most curious part of you wanted to know what this woman wanted with you. Now that she had her back to you, you could see that her dress didn’t cover all of her back. She also had scars on her neck and between her shoulder blades.

You walked by her side for a few minutes, avoiding looking directly at her and instead greeting people you knew. Nobody seemed to notice the presence of your companion, which alarmed you a little, considering the aura of power that surrounded her. You didn’t understand how everyone moved out of her way so naturally if they couldn’t even see her.

She didn’t try to make conversation with you during the trip out of town, and you were grateful for that. You didn’t know what to say or wanted to say something. The woman made you nervous in a rather exciting way. She didn’t make you feel insecure or scared like it had in the market when she was watching you. Now, on the other hand, it made your hair stand on end, yes, but you didn’t feel the urge to run away from her as you had before. You wondered what had changed since then.

It was not until you left the market that you dared to speak again, fiddling with your basket of groceries, "Thanks for helping me in the market. I don’t want to think about what would have happened if you hadn’t been there."

The woman smiled in your direction and shrugged, "It's always a pleasure to see a man run away from me like an insect," she said playfully. No man had fled from you before, but you supposed that the feeling should be pleasant. If you could only intimidate a man as easily as she did. "I'm sure you can defend yourself, but try not to get in trouble while I'm not here."

You analyzed her words for a few minutes before answering, "I do not get into trouble often. I usually don’t come to the village to avoid getting into this kind of situation. "

"Oh?" The woman raised an eyebrow in your direction, "I thought you had friends here, for all the people you greeted."

"They are only people I know from childhood or old friends of mom. Nobody close." You shrugged nonchalantly. You didn’t know why you were telling this to a woman you didn’t know at all, but you were doing it. You had the strange feeling that she wasn’t going to use that information against you, and you didn’t know how to react to that.

The woman nodded in your direction by way of understanding and kept walking, looking at the houses on the outskirts of the market. It was still a good half hour before you arrived at your cabin, and you were not sure if she would want to accompany you. You still don’t know why this strange woman is accompanying you for so long, but the idea of asking her what she wants with you makes your stomach turn into a mess of nerves.

You officially left the village and entered the green forest with the woman next to you. The branches of the trees waved in a dance guided by the wild wind, green and yellow leaves falling slowly to the ground. Autumn was approaching, and the festival of the End of Summer  was just around the corner. You couldn’t be more excited about it.

You kept walking beside the woman in silence for several minutes before she spoke again.

"I do not understand what the big fuss is," she said firmly. You stopped over your steps to look at her, but when you turned to her, she wasn’t looking at you in the eyes; she looked at your face and body, analyzing you. "You are like any other mortal."

Your stomach tightened at the comment. The woman leaned closer to you, now holding your gaze but not actually seeing you. She was looking at your eyes, looking for something in them. Like the answer to her questions were inside there.

She blinked and frowned, straightening and dropping her head to the side in a gesture of curiosity. Her stance intimidated you, so firm and gentle at the same time, the personification of beauty in a storm.

"I've never understood the impulses of my brothers," she mumbled absently, biting her lip and shaking her head slightly, the movement making her red hair like a ripe apple shake with it. "But I will not let their whims hurt someone else."

You had no idea what she was talking about, but you tried to talk to her anyway, "You're not a mortal, I know that." You told her, trying to straighten up and talk confidently, but you doubted your attempts would work. "But you know I can’t trust you so easily."

The woman smiled cynically, shaking her head and snorting, "Haven’t you already had an encounter with a divinity that didn’t want to hurt you? I wouldn’t put my trust in him, but I do not think James has scared you so much to distrust of me as well."

Her words confused you and alarmed you at the same time. You didn’t understand what she was talking about. It was clear that she knew about the incident in the stream a few weeks ago, but you didn’t know any James who would have 'scared' you. You shook your head and frowned, "What happened that time was–"

"Do not try to deny what happened in reality. I know everything." The woman stopped looking at you and kept walking, you following her right behind. Her words formed a knot in your stomach. She seemed to feel your restlessness, because she hurried to clear up your doubts, "I was not there, if that's what you're asking."

"How do you know what happened, then?"

The woman smiled, the glow behind her eyes mingling with different emotions; affection, annoyance and the slightest trace of worry. "You're all he talks about."

You tried to make sure your surprise and confusion didn’t showed up so openly in your expression, but you were sure you were failing. You couldn’t take your curiosity anymore.

"I only know one divinity, and his name is not James."

The woman looked at you for a few seconds before returning her gaze to the dirt road in front of her; if you didn’t pay attention it would be very easy to trip over a root or a rock and fall flat against the ground.

"I always forget that you mortals don’t know the whole story." She let out a chuckle, like all this conversation amused her. You didn’t know how to feel about that.

Her words caused different feelings in you. You know that not all the myths and stories about the gods and divinities were completely correct. It wouldn’t surprise you if there were things that mortals like you don’t know about, things forgotten or ignored as history is told again and again for decades.

"Tell me, then." You challenged her. The way she said  _'You mortals'_  confirmed what you already believed; this woman is a goddess, although you're still not sure of who. And just like that day in the stream, you don’t know if she is a good or an evil deity, and you can’t know unless you stay with her a little longer, risking the danger of a goddess with bad intentions.

The woman's step barely hesitated before casting a glance over her shoulder, even though you were walking beside her. That single glance reminded you how simple and mortal you are, but you didn’t feel threatened in anyway. It was like the woman wanted to make it clear who was in charge of the situation, and while you hated to give up control so easily, you knew that you weren’t even the most powerful person between the two of you. Not mentally, much less physically.

The woman thought for a few minutes before turning to you again, walking carelessly on the dirt road that led you home. "Mortals don’t care who we were before we became divine, unless it is directly linked to how we cease to being humans in the first place."

The statement took you by surprise. That was not what you expected, but you knew you shouldn’t interrupt her until she was over.

"We had friends, jobs, families. We had names and likes and thoughts. We still do, but that is often omitted in our stories. Nobody of your people knows how I got this scar on my elbow, and nobody wants to know."

"I do."

The woman smiled softly, not caring that you had interrupted her. You had the feeling this was the only time she would let it go. "I'll tell you one day, but I want you to understand something first." You nodded and closed your mouth again, concentrating on her words and following your path.

The woman continued like you haven’t interrupted her, "You met Winter, God of Memories and Will, am I wrong?" You squeezed your basket, but nodded anyway. "I guess he told you to call him Bucky, like he does with us."

You tried to avoid feeling the way you did when he said his name. You had not seen Bucky since that time in the stream a few weeks before, but you knew he had been watching you. And here was this woman, this goddess, who is talking to you and treating you with something similar to kindness, although not completely docile. She is close to Bucky, someone who speaks with him commonly. The thought of being so close to him and at the same time so far gives you chills.

It's strange, if you think about it. You know Bucky has been watching you, even though you have not seen him in weeks. But you have felt him; a presence behind you or by your side when you go out for a walk, or every time you kneel in the cool earth of the field to plant or grow food that will soon bloom. There are times you can almost feel his breath in your neck, or a soft touch of his hand in yours.

And not to mention the carrots that he leaves around every time you're around.

"How else should I call him, then?" You kept walking normally. The woman shrugged and jumped on a tree root that protruded from the ground. "There is no way in this world that I’m going to call him 'My Lord'. That's not for me."

The woman let out a deep laugh. The sound made you smile as you had not done all day. "Please don’t do it. You will only feed his ego. I've been trying to get him off his pedestal for centuries."

You smiled at the thought. The tension in the environment had vanished, although you still felt cautious about your companion. She may be Bucky's friend, but she also may be lying. It would not be the first time that a deity deceived a mortal with games and lies. You didn’t wanted to be another victim.

You couldn’t help but relax around her, though. There was something about her that made you feel safe. Just like in the market, her presence alone calmed you in a way that nobody did. Maybe it was that aura of power that you knew could beat any opponent that faced her, or the way she claimed she would protect you from her 'brothers'. Maybe it was only her pale skin full of old scars that betrayed a life of suffering and survival, but this goddess gave off a power that no one could ignore.

The woman shook her head, still smiling, like she was remembering something that made her happy. "His mortal name was James. I knew him by that name. Bucky is just a nickname for his closest."

You processed what she told you slowly. James, that was his real name. Not Bucky, not Winter.  _James._

You walked in silence for a few more minutes, observing your surroundings. It didn’t take long to get to your cabin, and you still didn’t know what this woman wanted with you. You are on the verge of asking her, but you don’t know how to approach the subject. You tried another question that had been bothering you.

"What did you mean by not letting your brothers hurt me?" You asked doubtfully. You didn’t want to overstep your limits, and that horrible sense of insecurity was eating you alive. You hated feeling vulnerable, but there was no way to avoid that feeling by being with someone so obviously more powerful than you.

The woman almost stopped in her footsteps, but it was a pause so light that it might not have happened. She looked at you with green eyes like the leaves that fell around her and let you see her emotions, just as Bucky had done in your first and only encounter.

The woman smiled bitterly. "I have seen how the gods fall in love with innocent mortals and seduce them in their search for happiness. For centuries I have seen people like you go and fall in love just for the sake of doing it, dragging themselves into the world of deities. That almost never ends well, and I think you know it."

You knew, in fact. There is history after history of mortals and gods that fall madly in love, only for the god to get bored with his lover's time and leave them to return to their immortal life. In some stories, the mortal didn’t end with life.

The mortals aren’t made to be around gods, they have told you. You know it. And you know that even if Bucky doesn’t want to hurt you, maybe he can’t avoid doing it at the end of all.

"I'm tired of seeing people suffer. I myself have suffered enough for all of your people, and I don’t want my people to bring more pain to mortals than they have already done." All trace of kindness left her voice. The sudden aggressiveness made you nervous, but you refused to back away; You know that her fury is not directed at you. You held her gaze and kept walking beside her, ignoring the electricity in the air. There were a few minutes of walking to reach your cabin.

"You're Widow, aren’t you? That's why you want to protect me. To all of us." A glow of recognition appeared in the woman's green eyes, and you knew that you were right. "You are the Goddess of Protection and Defense. You don’t hurt mortals or innocents. "

The woman seemed pleased with your response, but the ferocity of her gaze had not disappeared. "I don’t hurt  _anyone_  unless they deserve it. And James has a special interest in you, Y/N. He has never acted like that with anyone, and I'm scared of what he might do."

You didn’t want to think much about the meaning of those words, but you had no choice. Widow was right; getting involved with a god could have tragic consequences for you, no matter how good or benevolent that god is.

The trees opened around you, uncovering the clearing in which your cabin was. The familiar dirt road to the entrance to your house looked strangely far away now that you had it in front of you. Maybe it was the presence of Widow that prevented you from taking a step inside your property, holding you with her until the conversation ended. Or maybe it was the figure of a man hovering in the clearing just a few feet away from you, halfway to your cabin.

Bucky was crouched in the middle of your front yard, carefully touching the blackberry bush that you and your mother had planted years ago. He didn’t look at you, but you knew that he already had seen you. You could see the brightness of his blue eyes from where you were, and the way they hardened when he laid his eyes on Widow. He didn’t look surprised to see her with you, but he did looked annoyed.

You froze and tried to catch your breath. Widow looked back at Bucky, no single emotion in her face. She didn’t seem to show any reaction to his presence either. You weren’t completely sure what was happening, but you didn’t want to stand between them in the middle of what seemed like a conversation without words.

Widow looked away suddenly, turning to you again. Her face was still expressionless, more reserved of her thoughts and emotions than Bucky had been in the stream. She looked at you with those green eyes, and you could feel a sense of warmth spread over you. Widow took your hand in hers and squeezed it tightly, a reassuring and at the same time intimidating touch.

She leaned closer to you, her breathing clashing with yours. She was so close to you that you could see her eyelashes, and you couldn’t find the strength to separate yourself from her. You didn’t want to do it. She was doing something with you, and you didn’t want to fight it.

The feeling of warmth spread through your body like burning fire, coiling in your arms and legs like vines of grapes in the trees. You felt suddenly calm, like all your worries had vanished with the simple touch of her hand in yours.

As quickly as it came, the feeling of warmth faded. You felt normal again, but different at the same time. Widow separated from you slowly, her eyes shining with relief. You stepped back, stumbling on your own feet.

Widow gave you her blessing, you suddenly understood. You had heard about people with the blessing of Widow; in moments of danger or threat, the blessed person managed to escape unscathed from the situation, or fight like mad person. From now on, no one could hurt you without receiving any harm in return.

You had no idea how to fight or defend yourself, nothing other than the few punches that Clint had taught you when you were younger. However, you felt like a feeling of power was now in you. You didn’t feel as helpless as you had before. You had the feeling that if someone came and tried to attack you, you wouldn’t only respond with a few dodge tactics and uncoordinated hits, you would give a real fight. You don’t know where the sudden feeling of defense came from, but you know that from now on you will not be as easy to break down as before.

The realization must have shown in your expression, because Widow smiled with that half smile, slightly mocking, but not malicious. Her smile faded when she looked at Bucky again. She approached you again, but she didn’t try to touch you as before.

"Promise me you'll be careful." The intensity in her gaze let you know how serious her words were. She really cared for you, and you couldn’t help feeling that it was your duty to erase that frown from her face.

"I will, I promise."

Widow looked at you for a few agonizing seconds before her lips broke into another smile. "Natasha. That is my name as a mortal. Call me like that when we meet."

 _When_. Not  _if._  The promise of an upcoming meeting made your heart jump in ways you could not explain. You smiled back as best you could. "Okay,  _Natasha_."

Natasha smiled at you for a few more seconds before turning her gaze to Bucky, who was still kneeling in front of your house. You hoped Clint wouldn’t have noticed your delay, or the people in the front yard of his house.

Bucky stood up and walked up to you, but he didn’t look angry or annoyed. More like worried. You didn’t understand how he left his emotions exposed so openly while he was in front of you, but Natasha didn’t. You turned to Natasha just before Bucky stopped in front of you, but you found yourself with a tall, old tree instead of your new friend. She was gone, just as Bucky had done a few weeks ago.

Bucky straightened up and looked at you expectantly. The realization that he was right there in front of you for the first time in weeks hit you. You hadn’t seen him in so long, but his aura of power still could make you tremble. You didn’t let that intimidate you and you refused to look away.

When he realized that you wouldn’t speak first, Bucky approached you more than he already was and put his hand in your food basket. He ignored your look of disbelief as he rummaged through the food you brought. You reacted when his hand emerged with the carrot he left an hour earlier in the market, bringing it to his lips and giving it a bite.

"What's your problem with taking my carrots off whenever we see each other?" You tried to retrieve that food, but Bucky leaned back, out of reach. His lips curled into a mocking smile.

"What's your problem with letting me take them so easily?"

You tried to reach for the carrot again, but Bucky moved away from you again. You ran after him, but he kept moving back and eating the carrot, making fun of you with his eyes and his smile.

You did a couple of laps around the clearing like that; You chasing him and he running away. You were about to give up and just throw a rock at him when you realized that Bucky was heading straight to the old trunk that you and Clint used as a seat in the afternoons that you took care of your mother's plants together. You opened your mouth to warn him, but it was too late.

Bucky's eyes widened with surprise as his calves collided with the large trunk on the ground and fell backward. You couldn’t avoid outburst in laughter. You approached him doubtfully, laughing and taking care that your food didn’t fall from your basket.

Bucky was on his back on the dirt ground, looking blankly at the sky and chewing on your carrot. His eyes strayed from the blue sky to look at you instead. "This wasn’t in my plans."

You laughed harder than before and sat next to him, putting your food aside, away from the danger of falling. You laughed at him a little more when you brushed the disheveled hair off his forehead. His blue eyes like a storm watches you closely. You only looked at each other for several minutes of silence without either of you daring to look away. You thought about what Natasha had told you, and you couldn’t help but be curious to what Bucky would say if he knew about that conversation.

He seemed to read your thoughts, because the smile on his face became softer, smaller. "Natasha already warned you about me." It was a statement, not a question. You sighed loudly and closed your eyes, letting the evening breeze brush your face.

You could hear the sounds of the forest surrounding you; the branches of the trees moving, the squirrels jumping from one side to the other, the birds singing soothing melodies. It was strange to think about how nature followed its course so normally when you had a more powerful being than everything around you right in front of you.

You felt his hand caress your face gently, the tips of his fingers brushing your chin and cheeks. You sighed again, this time for different reasons. You didn’t want to open your eyes and break the spell, but his voice did it anyway.

"You have to know that everything she said could become true." You could hear the doubt in his voice, the hope. He doesn’t want to tell you this, you noticed, but he was telling you anyway. "You deserve to know what you're getting into."

You opened your eyes and looked at him, still lying on his back on the ground, but observing you as intensely as the time in the stream. You don’t know if you would ever get used to a look like that.

You took his hand in yours and squeezed it gently, "I'm not sure if I want to get involved in this, if I'm honest." You confessed. You saw how his expression fell, and you couldn’t avoid yours from doing it too. You hurried to add, "But I'm willing to try, if you are too."

Before Bucky could answer, a sound inside the cabin made you separate your eyes from his. Clint was inside the house, you remembered. You sat up straight when you heard him curse, followed by the sound of something heavy hitting the ground. Surely he had dropped something while looking for something to eat.

You looked back at Bucky, half expecting him to be gone, but he was still there when you turned to him. He sat up too, and he was also looking at the cabin with curiosity. "Is that your brother, Clint?" You nodded. Bucky raised an eyebrow in your direction, "Sam has seen him hunting a few times. I never knew he was your brother. You don’t look anything alike."

You laughed and shook your head, remembering when you were younger and your brother messed with you. "I know. He used to tell me that my mother found me in a nest of snakes and she had taken pity on me, and that's why we lived together. We weren’t more than ten at that time."

Bucky smiled and stood up, helping you to get up. You took your groceries again and checked them to see that everything was still there. The only thing missing was the carrot Bucky had taken from you, but you knew it was a lost cause.

Bucky took a bite of that carrot, the tension of your conversation gone. Or that's what he looked like. "I'd better go now," he said, looking everywhere but you. You tried to keep your disappointment hidden. He didn’t respond to your proposal.

You smiled instead, giving him your best look of mockery, "What? There isn’t a kiss this time?" You joked. Bucky just rolled his eyes, but returned the smile.

You were about to turn around and enter the cabin when you heard him talking again, "I'm going to try."

You stopped all your movements, waiting for him to speak again. Bucky dropped the carrot and took a few steps away from you, like he was preparing to run away. "I will try to not hurt you, if you don’t hurt me first."

"How could I hurt you?" You questioned him. The idea sounded ridiculous in your head.

Bucky let out a chuckle, his composure relaxing like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, but his eyes were sad when they looked at you, "You'd be surprised how easy is making me suffer."

Clint made more noise inside the house, attracting your gaze to the cabin again. When you turned to Bucky, he was walking away through the trees, following the path to town, even though you were sure that wasn’t where he was going.

"Don’t wait two weeks to visit me again!" You called to him. For a moment you thought maybe he didn’t hear you, that he was too far away from you, but then he looked over his shoulder, still walking, and even in spite of the distance you still could see the brightness of his blue eyes watching you intently. You almost felt his response against your lips.

"I promise."

You stared into space for several more minutes before hearing Clint's voice from the door behind you.

You backed up to the entrance of your home, feeling the hairs on your neck rise. The feeling of being observed returned, just like in the market. Despite knowing that Natasha wasn’t going to hurt you, the knot in the pit of your stomach didn’t loosen. There was no reason for Natasha to watch you from a distance, observing you. So why you can’t shake the feeling of being in danger?

You went into the house and kept all your purchases in their respective places, with Clint moaning behind your back about how boring ‘I had been without you and how much I missed your food’.

That night, when everything was ordered and clean, and the fire in the fireplace was going out and the moon was shining in the highest part of the sky, you lay down in your bed and thought about what Natasha had told you, and about the promise that Bucky had made you.

Somehow, you couldn’t help but feel that you entered into the wolf's mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *evil laugh* Something is about to happen, my loves. And I gonna love every second of it.


End file.
